


Fire Lily

by LadyOfTheLake666



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen, Heavy Angst, Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Redemption, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfTheLake666/pseuds/LadyOfTheLake666
Summary: Katara fights Azula and saves Zuko’s life. The Great War has ended, at last.But has it really, for the new Fire Lord?-“Three summers later, when Katara was at Ba Sing Se at the invitation of the Beifong family, she found a strange letter waiting for her.It was a single red fire lily, tied with a ribbon that bore the seal of Fire Nation royalty. There was no note.”
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 118





	Fire Lily

Azula’s lightning bolt hit Zuko squarely in the chest.

It sizzled across his skin, as he struggled to remember what his Uncle Iroh had taught him, as he toppled backwards.

He tried to contain his breathing. If he did it right, if he did not lose control, if he did not give in to his rage and guilt, the bolt would pass through him, unharmed.

He took a few quick breaths, but it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t let go.

Azula’s manic face, with her bloodshot eyes, jubilant sneer and dark hair askew, swam in front of him. Tendrils of sparkling blue light coursed from her fingertips, swirling and dancing around her in a chaotic pattern, as she pirouetted through the air, like a feral bird.

Zuko could hear distant screams. Whether they belonged to him or to Katara whom he’d so foolishly brought along in this quest or to someone else lurking in the dusty courtyard, he did not know. He couldn’t know.

He’d wanted to bring his sister home. Instead she’d brought him to his knees.

I’ve failed again, he thought, as his vision darkened and the scent of faraway sea-spray hit his burning face.

Katara, he realized, as he crumpled on the stone ground.

*

Katara had never faced an opponent like Azula.

When she’d faced Zuko in the past, there’d been a precision to his attacks, calculated strategy to knock her out, not kill her. But Azula’s lightning bolts were death-blows, and she fought like an unrelenting child who will not take no for an answer, all raw and disordered power against the world.

Katara noticed the rusty chains and realized Zuko’s mistake.

Zuko had sought to take on Azula as an equal, as an opponent in a dueling match, but Katara figured that Azula cared no longer for rules or victories. She was the very spirit of a forest fire, that cared for nothing but to burn and burn everything in its path.

Azula would melt her towers of ice, turn her ice-knives into vapour, scald her skin with her own boiling water. But water was changeable, adaptable- it could bend and curve around itself in a way fire never could. Neither Katara nor Zuko could match Azula in power, but perhaps she could water-bend to trick her and trap her in her own game.

And so she did, binding Azula’s hands in chains, so that she couldn’t fire-bend anymore.

Unable to escape her shackles, Azula howled like a feral dog, spewing sparks of lightning. Katara spared a quick glance and a single thought to Fire Lord Ozai’s only daughter, a princess once and now a deranged and hateful creature, so full of spite and rage, and turned away.

She didn’t look back as she ran towards Zuko.

*

Zuko’s body lay still on the ground.

She kneeled beside him, cradling him in her arms. His clothes were torn, and nasty scorch marks trailed his arms and there was a gash on his chest. She gasped. He’d lost so much of blood already and she could feel only the faintest pulse.

She closed her eyes and placed her hand over his heart, and begged the water spirits to heal him.

Water swirled at her fingertips, soaking into his soft, breathing skin. She imagined a white-blue light, soaking into the dark red but not changing color and getting brighter and brighter. She imagined a boat floating in a calm white-blue ocean and a rower tugging a slumped body into the boat. She imagined a shore, stretching on endlessly, and a dark figure on the golden sand, sleeping, safe at last.

Gradually, Zuko’s breathing eased. Trembling, Katara opened her eyes and looked upon the face of the future Fire Lord, a boy with so much hurt inside, who had learnt to wear his scars with honor.

Apart from Azula’s growling in the distance, which grew fainter and less fierce with each passing moment as the huge energy she’d expended with her fire-bending finally took its toll, the world was utterly quiet.

Somewhere on a volcanic island, Aang was single handedly facing or had already faced the Fire Lord Ozai. She couldn’t be there with him, in that battle that would decide the fate of the world.

She didn’t know if Aang was alive or not, and her breath caught in her throat. She let out a sob.

Just then, Zuko’s form stirred beside her.

“Thank you, Katara”, he said, slowly waking up.

It warmed her to hear his voice, to see the color return to his face, to his glittering eyes. “No, I think I’m the one who should be thanking you”, she replied, her cheeks flushed, giddily happy and she leaned in to place a soft, quick kiss on his forehead.

He blushed.

*

Before he became King, the new Fire Lord spent weeks recovering from his burn injuries. His chest hurt all the time. He was feverish and had difficulty breathing.

His sister was ill too, but she was confined to a sanatorium. Delirious, she often had to be restrained, as she’d attacked the nurses on more than one occasion.

In the early days, Katara visited Zuko almost every day and sometimes stayed by his bedside all night, till the faint golden rays of dawn, filtered through the curtains and fell upon his pale face and dark locks. She told him stories of the Southern Water Tribe, the ones Gran Gran would narrate to her and Sokka, to lull them to sleep.

He’d listen intently, hanging onto her every word.

Once, he’d even grasped her hand and promised to take her to a Fire Lily Festival one day, that took place in the months of summer. There’d be lilies all around, he said, lanterns would be lit, the streets filled with singing and puppet shows and fire-bending jugglers. They’d wear masks to avoid the attention and share a bowl of fireflakes and sizzle-crisps, as the sky dazzled with fireworks, the air suffused with the sweet and moist scent of night-blooming lilies.

Katara wasn’t sure if she’d stay for the summer or join her brother when he sailed away to his homeland. But she’d never been to a Fire Lily Festival and she dearly wanted to.

Azula had no visitors.

*

Once Zuko was strong enough to walk, he took to spending a lot of time in the palace gardens. Flowers bloomed all through the year, and birds twittered, hidden in the branches. Katara, when she wasn’t tucked away in a corner of the vast library, poring over some ancient water-bending scroll she’d found in the archives, often joined him in these little walks. Together they’d feed the turtle-ducks that swam placidly in the green pond.

“It’s strange to realize the war is finally over, isn’t it?”, Katara said one evening, as they walked among the lily plants. “I grew up every day hearing about this Great War and never imagined I’d one day be a part of it. That I’d live to see it end.”

“But does it end, truly?”, Zuko replied, as a shadow fell across his eyes. “My father in prison, my sister gone mad and a boy who never wanted the throne but only his father’s love, to be crowned King.”

He sighed. Consternation flickered through Katara’s bright-blue eyes.

“You’ll make a much better Fire Lord than your father. I know it.”

She meant it.

“I hope”, he said, gazing into the distance. He remembered the time he’d first tried to befriend them, wanting to join their team, only to be refused, their distrust evident on their faces. So he’d tried to offer himself as a prisoner, instead.

Would the world ever accept him, after all the atrocities of his ancestors?

“The Fire Nation has a lot to pay for,” he continued, darkly. “I cannot undo a century of crimes in a year or a few years.” He clenched his fists. “I want to do the right thing, Katara I but don’t know if I can do the right thing.”

His voice trembled. He had the eyes of a frightened boy, a boy who was banished from his kingdom and disavowed his birthright, all because his father was annoyed with him.

A wave of sadness overtook Katara. “I’ve seen your heart,” she said, softly. “No one else deserves the throne more than you. And Uncle Iroh has always believed in you.”

Zuko stiffened. “Yet I betrayed him.”

“Yes, but you came back!”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that--”

She cut him off. “No, Zuko, it does. We’ve all made mistakes, done things we regret. But life has given us all a chance to be better.”

For a moment, Zuko stood, his lips half-parted, carefully considering her words. “You really think so?” he asked, surprised.

It always felt strange to hear it from someone else’s lips, to realize that someone else could look upon his own face, and not feel the burning pangs of revulsion or shame that followed him like a shadow, that someone else could look upon him with so much kindness in her heart.

Even Uncle Iroh had seen past the monster that Zuko had believed himself to be.

Perhaps what Katara was saying, was this. That he wasn’t a monster. That even if he’d done monstrous things in the past, he wasn’t a monster anymore. That he was as capable of goodness and greatness as the friends who gave him a second chance.

“I do”, Katara said, smiling radiantly at him.

She stood among the lilies, the sunlight golden upon her dusky skin and Zuko thought she looked beautiful.

“Thank you”, he whispered, almost in tears.

*

The new Fire Lord had an uphill task ahead of him. There were riots to quell, council meetings to attend, new laws to pass and newer reforms to make. The coffers of the Fire Nation slowly dwindled, as he set about paying war reparations, granting more trading licenses, sending ambassadors abroad to negotiate settlements and signing peace treaties with the leaders of different nations.

There was dissent in the court as Ozai’s old advisors didn’t like the way Zuko was handling things. Too much leniency, they warned, and soon people would take advantage of it and the Fire Nation would no longer be feared.

Zuko differed on this, urging that the reign of terror must end at last.

After two assassination attempts, he had them imprisoned and sought out newer members to reform his court.

Fortunately, he wasn’t alone. Toph informed him when he was being lied to, which (he realized after two grueling council meetings) happened nearly all the time at court. Aang was the brother he’d never had, who always had his back, who later became his ambassador and messenger of peace in far-off realms. And Sokka, when he wasn’t flirting or training with his Kyoshi girlfriend (who, Zuko noticed with reluctant pride, had even recruited Mai and Ty Lee into the clan), came up with useful and practical military insights.

And Katara, well, Katara remained her own self.

After his recovery and subsequent coronation, he didn’t get to meet her that often. If he saw her at the palace, they’d have snatches of conversation, a few minutes at the most, before he had to return to his duties. Once, just once, after a failed trade negotiation, Zuko had knocked upon her door at night and Katara saw the boy who was trying so hard to be a man, standing before her, exhausted and sick, with dark circles in his eyes.

She hugged him close and they talked all night, till he fell asleep in her bed.

There were whispers at court that the new Fire Lord sometimes visited his father and sister, in the dead of the night. That he spent hours talking to them. That he never raised his voice, but could sometimes be heard weeping softly.

In time, Toph became more immersed in discovering the limits of metal-bending and Sokka prided himself in the new technological marvels that he invented with the help of Teo and the Mechanist. One day, Aang expressed his wish to search for surviving Air Nomads and Katara decided to go along with him. She said she wanted to travel for a while and then visit her Gran Gran and teach water-bending to the little ones.

The goodbye was hurried and Zuko didn’t get the chance to ask her if she’d ever come back.

But they exchanged letters by messenger hawks. Not too often, because Zuko was busy rebuilding and ruling over a kingdom and Katara was on the other side of the world, on some grand adventure or the other.

In between his royal duties, Zuko struggled to make time to visit Uncle Iroh in his tea shop. He’d never liked tea, but now he could finally appreciate it, appreciate the fine art of waiting till the moment when temperature was just right, bringing the tea leaves to boil and then carefully sieving the warm dark liquid into a cup.

After all, patience had never been his strong suit.

Once or twice, he sat with a cup of tea for hours, remembering the days they spent in the wilderness or flying on Appa’s back across silent seas, in the quest for revenge or a missing Sun Temple. He remembered Katara, lying curled next to him, nestled in Appa’s soft fur, asleep and tired after facing and forgiving the man who’d slain her mother, and how he’d admired her even as he’d been afraid of her.

Even with his tea gone cold, he’d feel tendrils of warmth swirl within him, at the remembrance.

*

Three summers later, when Katara was at Ba Sing Se at the invitation of the Beifong family, she found a strange letter waiting for her.

It was a single red fire lily, tied with a ribbon that bore the seal of Fire Nation royalty. There was no note.

A smile stretched across her face.

She changed her travel plans overnight, trepidation filling her heart, as she counted the days until she set foot in the Fire Nation again.

*

Miles away, the Fire Lord Zuko waited by the balcony, overlooking the vast kingdom.

The colors of dusk lit up his realm in a fierce, fiery-red glow. The spires of the distant pagodas curled sunward, as if aflame. Red and golden banners hung from rooftops, announcing the annual Fire Lily festival. He looked out ahead, for as far as he could, gazing right into the heart of the sunset sky, thinking fondly of the maiden he longed to see again and wished to ask to be his queen.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved ATLA so much, I already want to re-watch it. I’m yet to read the comics, though. And I wish Zutara was canon. *insert disgruntled noises*
> 
> Meanwhile, the pandemic’s gotten worse in my country and it’s about to be month six of house-arrest, lol. I hope y’all are okay. Please, please review/comment, and let me know what you think! I swear, nothing makes me happier. I’m also on tumblr as ladyofthelake666, so feel free to say hi!


End file.
